


Makhanitis

by heliocharis



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Camilla who was a pill, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sleepovers, gethectd, teenage antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliocharis/pseuds/heliocharis
Summary: The Sixth House has never had a limit on the age of the Master Warden. Palamedes Sextus takes the title at age thirteen, and along with his cavalier develops both his particular skills and his taste for teenage rebellion.
Relationships: Camilla Hect & Palamedes Sextus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Makhanitis

**Author's Note:**

> For the Discord server's Get Hect'd event.

Palamedes Sextus, Master Warden of the Library, looked at the back of the office door and said, “A bit to the left.”

Camilla Hect, Warden’s Hand of the Library, moved the portrait a bit to the left.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” Palamedes said.

Camilla hung the portrait. It was of the Emperor, smiling blandly on an off-white background. The office was large, dark (as most Sixth House offices were), and old. It belonged to the Master Warden, and Palamedes had been in it for two days.

They were redecorating. The office had been left to Palamedes with no sign that it had ever been inhabited by a human being, although that had been Camilla’s impression of it before. So far, the decor comprised:

  1. Two calendars;
  2. Three maps of the Library, on each of which were highlighted the Adults Only sections;
  3. One skeleton;
  4. One portrait of the Emperor; and
  5. One poster representing in a number of pictures the ways of treating those who have fallen from a Library ladder and sustained moderate head injuries.



The remaining wall space was for the notes that Palamedes would inevitably put there. The rest of the office was fine. Palamedes had kept the furniture, including the desk chair, because even at thirteen he was tall enough for it. At that moment he was sitting in the chair, opening and closing the desk drawers.

“I’m trying to decide what else we need in here,” he said, sliding closed the drawer with the most convincing false bottom.

“I could get you some pot plants,” Camilla said.

Palamedes thought about it. “Are they all going to be poisonous?”

“No comment, Warden,” said Camilla. “What about those?” She looked over to the corner table, at the gifts that had been coming in from the other Houses both to congratulate Palamedes on his appointment and to attempt to get on his good side. Several had achieved neither.

“Let’s just leave them for now, unless you want the table.”

“No, I don’t need it.”

Palamedes sat back in his chair and surveyed their work. There he was, in his Master Warden’s robes, at the Master Warden’s desk, in the Master Warden’s office: he’d really done it. He looked ridiculous. It was perfect. In five years people might even mistake him for a human being.

“Where do you think,” said Palamedes, “is the best place in here to hide things from the Masters?”

* * *

**Excerpt of private communication between Doctor E. Hexakos and Master Scholar R. Senarius, undated**

… though it was no real surprise to us, it is thoroughly unprecedented. I will admit that we had not sufficiently prepared for a Master Warden of such a young age. As you know well, he is remarkably gifted, and will be an even more extraordinary mind once he grows into adulthood. However, for now he is prone to capriciousness, as is typical for that stage of development. I also note that his attitude tends towards blitheness and an unwillingness to behave seriously in many situations.

 _Per contra_ , the Warden’s Hand, when encountered independently (though there is a smaller and smaller chance of this happening now), is notably serious and reserved in personality when compared to her peers, and she may yet serve as an influence on the Master Warden in that regard. However, she does seem to be in the habit of speaking sarcastically while maintaining a serious demeanour (I have often found her tone of voice quite difficult to interpret), which is likely to lead to misunderstandings or accusations of disrespect.

I will add that the relationship between them—they have a particular friendship, which has been the case since they were very young—is in many ways ideal to support a necromancer-cavalier partnership, particularly one as required by a head of House and their cavalier primary, but one worries that such a familiarity between teenagers is likely to become increasingly insular during these years. I have observed them on several occasions to communicate in some kind of code, which may be problematic if used by them in formal contexts, and they seem to share a great number of private jokes which no one else could hope to fathom. They are nonetheless both very intelligent children; one hopes that all these things I have mentioned will be grown out of relatively soon, and our reservations will have been unfounded ...

* * *

The second-largest reading room in Section B31 of the Library, conveniently situated close to the Section B tea room, was usually occupied at all hours of the day by someone working on their next article. This evening it was occupied by Camilla Hect, who was working on dragging its central table into the corner to make room for the roll-up mattresses she had brought with her. These were to go with the blankets and pillows that had been pulled out from their cupboard in Palamedes’ office (Camilla had put them there on the first day and her point had already been proven several times over).

All this was to enable what they were calling an exclusive academic conference, commencing that evening and finishing the next morning, or what others might refer to as a sleepover. It was for Palamedes’ birthday. He was now fourteen, and since taking office had gained both a reputation for levity and half an inch in height. Owing to their age and position, his and Camilla’s growth had become a particular interest of the medical people’s: they were summoned every six weeks to the on-planet clinic to be weighed, measured, and stuck with needles for the purpose of both putting things in (vitamins) and taking things out (blood for the usual tests). By this point their hormone levels were probably being graphed to the picogram. Camilla had considered finding a way to fool at least one of the tests, but thought if she gave some lab tech a heart attack they might start supervising her.

With the room set up, Camilla redid her ponytail and headed back to Palamedes’ office, passing the tea room, a few people searching the shelves, and the many signs that read NO EATING – NO DRINKING – NO BLOOD MAGIC.

Palamedes was where she’d left him, surrounded by notes for his latest paper. It wouldn’t be right to call it his current one, because he was working on three, but this was the one he’d been spending his research hours on (these were separate and distinct from reading hours and reviewing hours).

He looked up as Camilla came through the door. “Did you see anyone?”

“No one relevant,” Camilla said. “They’ll probably start showing up soon.”

 _They_ were any number of adults who were likely to hear about the overnight conference and attempt to dissuade them on the grounds that deliberately sleeping in a reading room was ‘unprofessional’ or ‘absurd’. Camilla was looking forward to it. She got them each a cup of tea and took hers to the office anteroom with the latest edition of _Philosophical Transactions of the Society for Textual Philology_ , which so far was full of shit.

The first visitor, someone from one of the endless governance committees, appeared ten minutes later, declaring that it was essential for him to see the Master Warden in person. To this he got a refusal from Camilla: quite impossible. Busy. Posing the skeleton.

“I can show you the skeleton, if you like,” offered Camilla.

This was refused in turn. The spectre of Governance left.

Camilla didn’t bother with the rest of the articles. She went back into the office, where Palamedes was tapping his pencil against his teeth.

“Time for dinner, Warden,” she said. “Unless you want to eat that instead.”

Palamedes sighed. He put down the pencil. “Do you have any thoughts on the IRX theory?” he asked, with the air of someone whose brain was about to turn upside down.

“No, but I can make some up.”

Palamedes fixed her with the disapproving look he was practising. On anyone else it might have worked.

“Dinner,” Camilla said.

Another sigh, stronger than the first. Palamedes put his notes aside. “Alright, then.”

They went for dinner. Palamedes kept to his habit of eating most of a reasonable amount in between scrawling notes on a piece of flimsy from his pocket. There were a couple of people around who looked like they wanted to talk to them, who Camilla ignored.

On their arrival back at the office, with bolstered energy and the stash of bread rolls Camilla had taken for later, they were met by Sekstó, who was the youngest Master and the one Palamedes liked the most. Camilla respected her because she’d realised there was no point in competing against Palamedes and had turned to supporting him instead. She was a good necromancer and a creditable academic, if a bit sentimental. As they approached her expression circled neutrally polite and landed on diplomatic.

“Evening, Master Warden, Warden’s Hand,” she said. “I heard you were, ah, working tonight.”

“We’re going to a conference,” Palamedes said.

Sekstó gave them a small smile that might have had a hint of pre-emptive defeat. One of the clips holding her long, fair hair up was starting to fall out of place. “Which topic was that on, Master Warden? I forget.”

“Research.”

This was an unfavourable answer. Sekstó looked towards the ceiling in a silent appeal to someone who was probably the Emperor. Camilla barely resisted the urge to tell her he was on the other side of the door.

“Master Warden,” Sekstó said, “I would maybe just question the necessity of holding it in B31. There must be quieter places where the research can be presented with less possibility of being interrupted? I dare say you both have attended overnight conferences before.”

Palamedes adjusted his glasses and put on a polite smile. “A valuable question, Master Sekstó, as always. Your concern for the success of the conference is duly noted. But there’s no need to worry. Camilla and I have everything quite under control, as preeminent Library business under section 60B.”

He kept smiling. Sekstó tried to out-stare him in a gentle, respectful way. She was doing her best, Camilla had to give her that.

This went on for some moments. Eventually, Sekstó’s respect for authority prevailed. She closed her eyes and smiled like a grown-up older sibling might, if their younger sibling happened to be in charge of everything.

“Well, then, I suppose all I can say is, share with us later what you learn,” Sekstó said. “Goodnight, Master Warden, Warden’s Hand.”

“Goodnight, Master Sekstó,” Palamedes said. When she had gone he opened the wards on the office door and let them in.

Camilla said, “Section 60B?”

“You know the one. Exemptions from the Standards as provided under section 167.”

“Of course.”

Sekstó would know that, and would also know that there were several other sections that were more directly relevant, and be left wondering why Palamedes had quoted that one.

Palamedes was convinced to reduce the stack of books he wanted to take with him to two. Then they brushed their teeth and changed, putting their robes back on over top.

On their way to the second-largest reading room in Section B31, they saw a figure slumped over a desk at the far end of the wing. This was not remarkable, but they were on the lookout. Palamedes took off his glasses and used his farsighted eye to make out more of the person’s features. “No one to worry about,” he said.

The reading room was undisturbed. Camilla closed the blinds, took her robes off, and sat down on the pile of pillows and cushions she’d made on the floor. Palamedes sat next to her, and she bumped his shoulder with hers. She grinned at him. “Happy birthday, Warden.”

“Finally,” Palamedes said, “you can stop hassling me about being ‘ _one year older’_.” He was smiling.

“I was one year older,” said Camilla.

“No, you weren’t, and you do this every year. I should write you up for gross insubordination.”

They both thought about that for a second, and laughed. Camilla nudged Palamedes with her shoulder again. “How long do you think it’ll be before he turns up?”

“Give it twenty minutes,” Palamedes said.

It took twenty-four. They were reading, Palamedes using Camilla as a pillow this time, when Camilla heard the footsteps and whispered, “ _He’s here_.”

Camilla snuck forward to the door, Palamedes standing a step back. The second the knock came, she pulled it open, leaving the person on the other side momentarily bewildered.

“Good evening, Master Scholar Senarius,” Palamedes said as Camilla took her place behind him.

Master Scholar R. Senarius had been collecting titles for longer than Palamedes and Camilla’s combined age. He was renowned for his rigorous scholarship and a list of publications that, laid end to end, would circle Dominicus. He was also so boring that if his life flashed past he wouldn’t be in it.

“Good evening, Master Warden,” Senarius said, in his flat, droning drag of a voice. “Good evening, Warden’s Hand.”

Camilla ignored him, to maintain her reputation for disrespect. Palamedes said, deadpan, “What brings you here, Master Scholar?”

Senarius took in the mattresses, the blankets and pillows, the packets of sweets they had saved up. Camilla could hear everything slotting into its designated place in his occipital lobe. “It is apparent,” he said, “that what I have ascertained is correct, and you are holding some kind of party in this reading room.”

“Yes,” Palamedes said brightly. “Though personally I would interrogate whether two people are really sufficient to constitute a party.”

“This does not seem the time for semantics,” Senarius said.

Palamedes was about to say that it was always the time for semantics, but Senarius continued, “The fact remains that this is unprecedented under Library allowances, and many would consider it inappropriate. I am compelled to ask for your reasoning, Master Warden.”

“Well, you see, Master Scholar,” said Palamedes, “I’ve been internalising a really complicated situation in my head, and what I’ve come up with is that I am free to utilise Library spaces in any such manner as I see fit, and that includes…” He affected a contemplative expression. “Doing whatever I like.”

Senarius looked like a bone adept whose maintenance construct was getting up and walking away. He looked blankly at Palamedes, which was not very different from the way he normally looked at people, then said, “Master Warden, I must warn you against activities that according to Appendix G might be considered, by the less-known definitions, a minor crime.”

Camilla could only imagine Palamedes’ expression at that moment. If she’d been a different person she would have laughed out loud.

“I do know the definitions, as I well ought to, and it’s purely a matter of interpretation,” Palamedes said. Camilla was proud of how measured his voice was. “I also think that Oversight Body wouldn’t be concerned with us having a ‘party’ in a reading room, so long as we don’t disturb anyone else going about their work, which you will find we haven’t, and won’t. Besides, it is my birthday, after all.”

Senarius started, “According to the precedent set by historical studies of Article Fifty—”

“Yes, there is no call to enforce the Appendices according to individual interpretation, nor to the interpretation of fewer than four committees in unanimous agreement,” Palamedes said, pushing up his glasses.

This defeated Senarius, who had no more manuals to cite, and lacked the creativity to come up with a better argument. He was left with saying, after a pause, “If you insist, Master Warden. Many happy returns. I trust I will see you at tomorrow’s meeting with Fundamentals and Vocabulary.” He sounded like he was reciting his own obituary.

“You will,” Palamedes said. “Good night, Master Scholar.”

Senarius left. He was probably headed straight to his study to write a strongly-worded letter to someone, maybe Palamedes himself. Neither Camilla nor Palamedes particularly cared.

“A _crime_ ,” Palamedes said as he closed the door. “Cam, can you _believe_ that.”

“Well, you know what they say about crime in the Library,” Camilla said.

“What do they say about crime in the Library?”

“It’s against the law,” Camilla said.

Palamedes snorted. “I suppose he’s got a point. Once a Master Warden starts having parties in reading rooms, in time they think nothing of talking too loudly in Zone E, and from that they come next to leaving forms out of order, and from that to opening files without checking the register.”

“Chaos,” Camilla said. “Anarchy. If you do any of those things I will eliminate you myself.”

They made themselves a nest of blankets and lay down. Palamedes nudged Camilla’s shin with his knee. “Excellent job, Warden’s Hand,” he said. “Thanks for setting all this up.”

“My pleasure, Warden,” Camilla said. “And you were right.”

“That they’d hate it? Of course.” They bumped fists. Palamedes looked up at the ceiling. “What should we do next year?”

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive me for giving this a title that sounds like a disease. It's a Greek epithet meaning 'contriver,' sometimes given to Athena.
> 
> Thanks to the friends who encouraged me as I was writing! And to my sister, who reviewed this and then sent me the exact same meme I was about to make.
> 
> I'm on Twitter @heliocharis.


End file.
